


The Iced Soldier

by BayleyWinchester



Category: Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Canon Related, Canon Universe, Dead Steve Rogers - Freeform, Ghost Steve Rogers, Heavy Angst, Isolation, Murder, Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Psychological Torture, Punishment, So much angst, Sort Of, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Torture, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-05 22:59:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15181226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BayleyWinchester/pseuds/BayleyWinchester
Summary: When Steve Rogers crashed the Valkyrie into the ice he expected to go to whatever Heaven existed with Bucky. What he did not expect was to wake up in a dark cement room with a group of Russians in lab coats.If Bucky was going to be held by Hydra then Steve would be with him every step of the way - ghost or not.





	1. Prologue

“Come in. This is Captain Rogers. Do you read me?” 

All he could see was white, it was everywhere. Snow and ice covered from one horizon to the other, he had never seen so much white. It came with the cold, or the cold came with the snow, he didn’t care at that moment. The broken window pulled in more cold air than Steve would have liked. It reminded him off the train, of Bucky, of the snow and the cold there. At least they would die in similar ways. 

“There’s not enough time. This thing’s moving too fast and it’s heading for New York. I gotta put her in the water.”

God, had he been talking this entire time? He didn’t know what he had said to her but Peggy was crying, he could hear her trying to stop it through the static-filled radio. Maybe it was because he was about to die, no way to stop it. That could be the reason. Maybe he should be a bit more panicky, not this strange calm that had settled over him as he looked out to the snow and ice. 

“Please, don’t do this. We have time. We can work it out,” she replied. 

“Right now I’m in the middle of nowhere. If I wait any longer a lot of people are gonna die. Peggy, this is my choice,” his choice. It was hardly a choice, either he died or all of New York, maybe more, dies. That wasn’t a choice. 

Or perhaps he meant something else, another choice, his mind wasn’t exactly functional at the moment. Sure, he was calm but he couldn’t organize his thoughts enough. A choice to go down in snow and ice, a long fall in the middle of nowhere with death at the bottom. It sounded peaceful as Steve thought about it, which probably sounded stupid. Falling to your death was hardly peaceful. But he wasn’t alone, he wasn’t about to step into the unknown because he had Bucky. 

He had never believed in soulmates until this moment. As he drove the plane into the ice, as the nose hit the snow-covered ground Steve realized that Bucky was his soulmate. There was no other way to describe them. No other way to explain them, explain how much they meant to each other. Soulmates. That thought calmed him even more. 

Water started seeping in through the hole in the window and holy hell it was cold. Steve let it wash over his feet, numbing everything it touched as it slowly climbed up the cabin. It was so cold but it would be okay. He could handle a little cold water, and anyway, it was nicer to freeze to death than bleed out.

The radio was long dead, the silence he was left in was deafening. Peggy had been yelling at him to stop what he was doing, he felt bad for ignoring her, but he had to do this. Had to save America, save the world. Save himself from a world without Bucky. He considered that he was being selfish for a moment in the quiet. The Allies still needed him, he could help them. But Bucky needed him even more. 

Bucky was waiting for him. 

So, as the water filled the cabin Steve rested his head against the seat and sighed lowly. He couldn’t feel his legs anymore, the water was up around his lap now. It wouldn’t be long before it covered him completely. That would be when he died, drowning was never the way he had wanted to go, but it was going to be okay. It wasn’t like he was in pain or scared or trying desperately to get out. He was just peacefully sitting there. Waiting for his own death. It wasn’t like he had been afraid of death, he had always been at risk of dying through his childhood. So he was okay with what was happening. 

Bucky would be there. 

He couldn’t leave Bucky waiting.

~~

When Steve opened his eyes he expected a lot of things. A bright light? Heaven? Jesus? His Ma and father? Bucky? Yes to all? What he did not expect was to wake up in a dark cement room with a grey tube - not unlike the one he had been in to get the serum - with a window in it against one wall and a group of men in lab coats speaking Russian against the other. 

He also didn’t expect to not have a body. 

Okay, maybe he had a body. But it wasn’t his normal body. There were a few things that gave it away. First, his feet weren’t touching the floor. Second, when he walked (floated?) over to the men in lab coats, they didn’t even see him. Third, when he went to touch one, his hand went right through the man’s shoulder. When that happened he figured something was wrong. He probably should have figured something was wrong when he woke up after crashing a plane into the Arctic ice but sometimes he could be so - what had Bucky called him? - slow.

Steve had never believed in spirits or ghosts, they were just stories he and Bucky would tell at night to try and scare each other. They weren’t real. But he was. He was here, wherever ‘here’ was. He wanted to scream but he couldn’t find his voice. He was supposed to be with Bucky, wherever he was. Not in this weird dungeon cell thing full of Russians. 

One of the men in coats spoke loud enough for Steve to hear “nam nuzhno razbudit' yego,” his voice was deep and raspy, and he waved his clipboard around as he spoke. Steve didn’t speak much Russian but he was able to get the general idea, he wanted to wake someone up. 

“On budet neustoychivym,” another man seemed to argue. Was someone going to be mental? Sick? Or maybe he said unstable? Either way, no one was happy with what was happening. 

Finally, Steve decided to go and look at the grey-green tube on the other side of the room, it was a bit bigger than a person and the window looked fostered over. There were a few wires coming out the back of it and a control panel to one side. As Steve was floating over to it a man spoke “My dolzhny pozvonit' Zola,” and Steve recognized the name. He stopped going to the tube and turned back to the Russians. They all looked unsure, all of them looking around for confirmation before one of them pressed a button on the door. 

Only a minute later Zola walked into the room. That was impossible - it was supposed to be impossible. They had caught him, Bucky had given his life for them to get Zola. So why was he in this Russian base? Did that mean this was Hydra? Steve looked around nervously, he had taken out so many of the Hydra bases. “V chem problema?” Zola asked when he walked in, Steve was able to catch the word ‘problem’. 

“On prosypayetsya,” one of the other Russians said. Again, they were talking about waking up and Steve’s attention drifted to the tube. 

“On ne gotov,” Zola replied. Steve frowned, who wasn’t ready? Where they talking about the person who was waking up - the mentally unstable one?

They were all silent and Steve lost interest in them, wanting to see what was in the tube. He drifted closer, moving felt strange. It was like he was swimming, completely weightless. It was less like he moved and more he let himself be carried to where he wanted to go. The tube was a bit taller than him and quite a bit wider, it was hard to see into the glass plate from far away because of the ice and frost covering it. 

“Prinesite mne svoye oborudovaniye,” Zola said. Steve picked up on equipment and that he wanted it but he didn’t stop moving towards the tube. He was so slow, it took him awhile to get to the other side of the room. As he got closer he heard the door open and things being wheeled in but didn’t pay much attention, the metal machine had all his focus now. 

There were more voices surrounding him now, people speaking in rapid Russian. He cast one look back, they were setting up the room like a hospital. A bed, some more machines and a case full of medical looking tools. The bed had large metal straps on the arms, legs and torso areas. Steve guessed it was for the unstable man they were waking up. Maybe the tube had something to do with it?

Finally, he got to the tube and looked inside, his breath got knocked out of him when he realized what was happening. Bucky was in there. It was impossible, all of this was impossible, but it was him. It was Bucky, Steve would recognize him anywhere, and he was frozen in a metal tube. The rest of the world muted as he stared at Bucky, he looked the same as last time Steve had seen him, aside from the missing arm that Steve didn’t notice for a long time. He had survived the fall. Bucky had survived but he had been captured. 

Soulmates.

The word came to mind again, it had been the last thing he had thought of when he was dying, that he was Bucky’s soulmate. That they were soulmates and Bucky was waiting for him in the next life. Which wasn’t happening apparently, since Bucky wasn’t dead. At least, Steve thought as he stared at his friend, at least he had figured out why he was a ghost (was he a ghost? He didn’t feel dead. Or angry like in the stories). Knowing why he was still here, and why he was a ghost, made him feel so much better. 

It wasn’t like he could continue on without Bucky

Bucky had always been protecting him, pulling him out of fights, helping him when he was sick, following him to fight Hydra. Now it was his turn to look after Bucky, he had to be there for him and get him out of whatever was happening. The sense of duty settled over him and calmed down. He had to help Bucky. He let himself have a moment of panic, only a moment before he had to calm back down. Because how could help his friend? He was dead, a ghost, that couldn’t speak or touch anything. He had been at peace with dying because he had assumed that he was going to be with Bucky. Well, he wanted to laugh at himself, he was with Bucky. Just not in the way he wanted to be.

He shook his head, clearing the thoughts. He was being selfish, thinking like that. He wasn’t the one frozen in a tube and he wasn’t the one who was about to be strapped to a table and operated on by a known Hydra scientist. Freaking out wasn’t going to help. Staring at Bucky he willed himself to calm down, he could do this. He could help Bucky out of whatever was happening. 

But first, he needed to know what was happening. He went back over to Zola, watching as he opened a long rectangular box and nodded to himself before closing it. Another scientist brought in an IV. Steve stepped back as even more people came in, bringing different equipment before leaving. Zola spoke up, loud and clear, “davay nachnem,” Steve knew what that meant. He was about to begin. 

Within a few moments, the room was clear save Zola and two others. One of them walked over to the tube with Bucky and started pressing buttons on the control board. He turned a few dials and flicked some switched before stopping and looking at Zola who nodded. He pressed another button and the ice started receding in the tube. 

“Gotovo,” the man said. Done, Steve translated to himself. 

In the tube Bucky started moving, his eyes didn’t open for a while but when they did Steve wanted to cry. He looked so scared. After about five minutes of Bucky being woken up, the door opened on the tube. The two men and Zola stepped forward and caught Bucky as he fell forward, dragging him to the table and tying him down. 

“Dolzhny li my gotovit' anesteziyu?” One of the men asked and Steve didn’t understand it. 

Zola shook his head as he spoke, “Syvorotka ne pozvolit yemu rabotat'. Net smysla tratit' nashu anesteziyu,” again Steve only picked up words. Serum, won’t, allow, wasting. With a sharp breath, Steve realized what they were talking about. Anesteziyu meant anesthesia. They were going to operate on him without any pain medication. He wanted to scream at them to stop, wanted to scream but he couldn’t. He didn’t have a voice anymore. 

Steve was forced to watch in horror-ridden silence as Bucky screamed when the procedure started. 

He was awake God damn it and they didn’t even care. Steve drifted to where Bucky’s right hand was strapped down. When had tried to touch the Russian, his hand had gone straight through but he had to try. Taking a deep breath he moved his hand down. He wanted to thank God when he was able to grip Bucky’s hand. Bucky stopped screaming for a moment, his eyes going to his hand, and Steve wanted to sob. The fear and pain in his eyes. He tightened his hold on Bucky but it wasn’t enough and as Zola continued Bucky started screaming and begging for him to stop. 

After what seemed like an eternity of the surgery Zola stepped back. Almost as soon as it was over Bucky passed out, his hand going limp in Steve’s. 

“Podgotov'te ruku,” Zola commanded. They both nodded and went over the to the box. Steve didn’t know what Zola had said but he had a guess, which was proved right when a metal arm was brought out of the box and handed to him. “Svarochnyy instrument,” he said. Tool was all Steve was able to get. 

“Chto-nibud' yeshche?” A man asked. Anything else, Steve knew that one. 

“Kontroliruyte yego mozgovyye uzory i serdechnyy ritm,” Zola answered looking at Bucky’s shoulder. Steve understood it enough to get that they were monitoring his brain and heart. 

They started operating again, this time Bucky stayed limp on the table. Zola spent a long time attaching the arm to Bucky’s shoulder. It was silver, matched his other arm in size, and had a red star at the top of the upper arm. As Zola attached it different plates would move and make a mechanical whirring sound. Steve hated it. 

Steve stood, frozen, as he watched them finish the procedure. Bucky stayed still as well, still passed out on the table. The three scientists stepped back to admire him. Steve kept his hand in Bucky’s but he doubted it was doing anything at this point. 

Finally, Bucky stayed to move. One of the scientists stepped up beside him and started writing something on his clipboard. Once Bucky was awake enough he started looking around where he was. His eyes landed on his new arm and then on the man beside him. Almost instantly he reached out and snapped his hand around his neck. Steve wanted to smile, he knew Bucky would fight back. 

The other scientist stabbed something into his chest that made his arm fall back down, his eyes glazing over. Steve felt himself get even angrier - had they had that while they did the operation? Bucky started going limp against the table but he was still awake, glaring at the men and struggling to move. 

“Sergeant Barnes... the procedure has already started. You are to be the new fist of HYDRA!” Zola said cheerily, which caused Bucky to panic even more against the table and Steve couldn’t blame him. He wanted to punch the man in his stupid, smug, face. As Bucky continued to struggle Zola turned back to the other men. “We’re going to need him later on. Put him on ice. ”


	2. Training

**May, 1945**

Leaving Bucky was painful. Not just in the ‘I don’t want to be away from him’ way but, more so that it was physically painful to walk (drift) away. 

Time didn’t really mean anything to Steve now, he couldn’t figure out how long things were anymore. He could be in the room for a minute or a century and he wouldn’t know the difference, not anymore. The only way he could tell was when he gathered the courage to leave the room and go looking. 

He only left the small room that held Bucky two times, he spent his days hovering beside Bucky in the tube. When Bucky was asleep Steve was able to - well, he didn’t know how to explain it. He was fully aware of what was happening around him, he knew when people came in and if Bucky ever moved. But he wasn’t conscious in the sense that he was actively thinking. It made waiting around for, for whatever was going to happen, a lot easier seeing as he wasn’t thinking about or overthinking things. 

The first time he left Bucky was only a short time after the scientist left him after attaching the metal arm. He followed them out, wanting to find out as much as he could about what was happening to his friend. This was when he found out that leaving Bucky caused a lot of pain, pain that Steve could only hope was one-sided. He made it to the hallway outside of the room, it was dark and cement just like the room he had been in before. A few dim lights were placed evenly along the wall but even he found it hard to see in there. 

There were two other doors in the hallway, the first was a storage closet full of boxes. Steve  peered in one and found copies of official letters that had been sent to the location they were at. Which turned out to be a HYDRA Siberian Facility. The letters all had something to do with the ‘Winter Soldier’ program or had Bucky’s name. Steve guessed that Bucky was apart of the Winter Soldier program. 

Leaving that room he went into the next door, which was a big room - almost a hall - and full of people. When Steve passed through the door he felt the pain even stronger, it was like someone was pulling on a chain that was connected to this chest and it sucked. All the people in the room were Russian and were speaking loudly over each other. They were worried, Steve could see that. 

“Chto teper'?” One soldier asked. What now, Steve translated.

“My zhdem zakazov, i my sokhranyayem aktiv aktivnymi i rabotosposobnymi do etogo vremeni. Poymi menya?” Another man, a superior Steve guessed, snapped back. Steve didn’t know all of it but he got the general answer, they were waiting for orders and keeping the asset - probably Bucky - alive. 

A newspaper beside the door caught his attention. There were a lot of them scattered over a desk, most in Russian or other foreign languages that Steve couldn’t make out. However, there was in English and the headline made a grin cover Steve’s face, it was the best news he had heard in a long, long time. 

NAZIS QUIT! THE WAR IS OVER!

After seeing the paper he drifted back to Bucky. The war was over, Hydra would be cut down and Bucky would be rescued. It would be okay again because the Allies one and it wasn’t like Hydra could stay alive without the Nazi party. 

Bucky looked peaceful in the icy darkness that was his cryotube. That was a small grace that Steve was thankful for. At least he got that little reprieve. “It’s okay, Buck,” Steve said resting his hand on the glass plate. “You’re going to be okay.”

**February, 1949**

The next time Steve left the room was because a whole lot of noise ‘woke’ him up. People were rushing around outside their room, shouting orders in Russian and moving machines around. Casting a look back at Bucky - he looked exactly the same - he left the room and went to investigate. 

Instantly, he was bombarded with chaos. People were running back and forth, the big room had people coming in and out of it constantly, Zola was there as well, instructing them all angrily. Steve was right, there were a lot of machines being wheeled around. There was one that caught his attention, it was like a chair but had a circular frame at the back of it and straps on the armrests. Steve followed that one into the hall and watched as it was connected to the wall by big cables.

“ Gotovo,” the soldier said. Done, Steve translated. 

Zola looked very happy, nodding as he took in the chair. His face made Steve think that whatever that chair did, it wasn’t good. 

“Poluchit' aktiv,” Zola commanded. Get the Asset. 

Steve followed the three soldiers that nodded at his words, followed them back into the room with Bucky and watched as they turned off the tube and let Bucky wake up. Just like last time he looked scared, lost and confused before it turned to anger when he saw the men in front of him. Steve nodded, they were obviously Hydra with the logo on their chests. He didn’t know how much of the procedure Bucky remembered - he hoped it wasn't a lot - but if he did then he would automatically be scared of these people. Steve couldn’t, wouldn’t, blame him for it either. They had done horrible things to him, made him part machine and locked him in cryo. 

The three men pulled the limp Bucky done and dragged him through the hallway into the hall like room. They set him in the chair and locked his arms down. Steve really didn’t like this chair. 

Zola walked in, a smile on his face, and addressed Bucky. “How are you feeling?” 

“Fuck you.”

A soldier went to strike him but Zola held up his hand. “I bet you’re holding out hope that Captain America comes to rescue you?” He through a newspaper, a newspaper declaring Steve dead, right onto Bucky’s lap. “He won’t.”

“You can fake a newspaper,” Bucky replied steadily. 

“He crashed a plane into the arctic only weeks after you fell off the train. He couldn’t save you then and he won’t save you now.”

“He’s not the only person in the world,” Bucky argued. Another piece of paper on Bucky’s lap and he stopped talking. A death certificate declaring Bucky dead. “You could fake this as well.”

“We could,” Zola nodded. “But we didn’t need to.” 

He collected the papers off of Bucky’s lap and handed them to someone else. “What we’re going to do, is we’re going to start this machine. You remember it, don’t you?” The glare Bucky sent was so intense even Steve stepped back. “Well, the old one wasn’t great. The technology of the time wasn’t up to my mind. But now, now we can use it. I wanted to share the news that your friend, oh, lover, is dead before I wiped him from your mind.”

“Fuck you.”

“ Nachalo,” Zola said. Start. 

Steve watched in horror as the machine turned on, electricity started sparking in the headpieces as they came down and settled on Bucky’s head. Screams echoed around the room as the machine continued, ten seconds at first, then twenty and then thirty. Steve was forced to listen to him screaming and  _ begging _ without being able to do anything to stop them. 

When it was over Stev e felt himself breath again. Bucky looked confused, he looked like he did when Steve found him at Azzano. But, he settled his gaze on Zola and scowled. “Doesn’t work.”

“It does,” Zola reassured. “It starts with the little things, it’s easier that way. What’s your birthday?”

Bucky’s eyes went wide. He couldn’t remember. Steve lent down beside him and whispered it in his ear. Bucky looked even more confused before repeating the date. Zola frowned, turning back to his soldiers. “Yeshche raz,” again. The man nodded and started the machine again. Bucky’s screams started again as well, his throat being ripped raw as he screamed through the pain. 

After thirty seconds the machine was turned off and Zola asked the same question, Bucky didn’t know the answer but Steve did. Zola looked even angrier that he still knew the answer, scowling and muttering to himself. 

“ Vernite yego na led,” Zola snapped. 

The machine was moved and Bucky was pulled up and dragged back to the cryo tube. Steve followed along behind them, watching as his feet caught on the rough ground and his shoe was ripped in the toe. He was placed inside again and the doors were closed. As the ice started back up he lifted his metal arm up, resting the hand against the glass. He looked terrified, he looked like he did when he was a little boy and they were doing something stupid like getting older kids to tell them horror stories. 

Steve put his own hand over Bucky’s and closed his eyes, tears threatening to fall. “I’m so sorry, Buck.”

**November, 1949**

It wasn’t long after that the men came back and Bucky was taken back to the chair. Zola was there again, as well his faceless and nameless henchmen. He was strapped back down and Zola stepped in front of him. 

“We’ve updated the technology again,” he explained. 

“Fuck you and fuck Hydra,” Bucky replied, as loud as he could in his still-sluggish state. 

Zola gritted his teeth and slapped him across the face. Bucky’s head whipped to the side, his cheek throbbing in pain and bright red, blood pooling his mouth from where he had bitten himself. Ever the fighter Bucky spat the blood out of his mouth and onto Zola, which only earned him another hit. 

“Nachalo.”

The machine was brought done and the electricity started, as did Bucky’s screaming. Steve circled the machine, trying to figure it out. In the stories ghosts could mess with the lights, turning them on and off. Maybe he could as well. There were a lot of cables running into the back of the chair, cables that connected to the wall. Steve followed one of them and tried to pull it out. His hand went straight through it and he shouted in anger. Which worked. The cable was pulled out of the wall, it had snapped in half just from Steve’s anger. 

People were silent for a moment before Zola demanded to know what happened and a man came and saw the broken cable. 

“Looks like you have a guardian angel,” Zola muttered to Bucky. 

Bucky smiled as best he could. “Steve.”

“Steve’s dead,” Zola slapped him again. “Best your forget him.”

“Never.”

“We’ll see about that. Put him back in cyro.”

**December, 1949**

When Bucky was taken out of cryo this time he was taken to a different hallway and placed in a tiny cement room. It only had the one door and was hardly big enough for Bucky to lay down in. He was thrown carelessly onto the floor and left alone. When the door was closed the room was thrust into utter darkness. After a while, he was able to push himself up and felt his way around so he was leaning against a wall. 

“Steve,” he sobbed. “I’m sorry.”

Steve’s heart felt like lead as he listened to Bucky sobbing and begging Steve to forgive him as if he had anything to be sorry for. He sat down beside Bucky and held his hand again, Bucky felt it, he stopped sobbing for a moment and tightened his grip. 

“I can’t-I’m sorry.”

“Can you hear me?” Steve asked softly, cutting Bucky off. 

“Yes,” he muttered. “Either you’re alive in here or I’m crazy.”

“I think I’m a ghost.” 

“Zola really fried my brain, huh?”

Squeezing his hand, Steve shook his head. “You’re not crazy,” they sat in silence for a long time. Bucky seemed comfortable now that he knew Steve was around him. The idea of soulmates floated around Steve’s mind. This just backed up his theory that they were, Bucky was the only one who could hear him, the only one who could sense him. “Do you remember when we first meet?” He asked softly. 

“When you were being punched by - uh - Richard O’Neil?”

“Yeah.”

“How could I forget?”

**January, 1950**

Bucky had just informed Steve that they had been in the cement room for one month, two weeks and four days. He also said that it had been approximately twenty hours since his last meal had come in and that meant there should be another one within the hour. It had been the same since Bucky had been placed in the room. Every twenty hours a plate of bland oatmeal looking stuff would be slide in the room, no human contact, Bucky would eat it and slide it back out. 

Steve could tell that the no human contact thing was affecting Bucky. He had started talking to himself and not responding to Steve. He would pace the room, walking around in circles and hitting into walls. Steve tried to get him to stop but he never would. Or he would wake up screaming and refuse to talk to Steve for hours upon hours. A few times he would act like he could see Steve, but it wasn’t right. He would act like the door was being opened and Steve was coming in, alive and ready to take him away. Steve would play the part, responding when he needed to, letting Bucky have those few moments of happiness. 

Finally, after one month, two weeks and four days, the door opened. There were five guards, each with a machine gun, and Zola. Steve wanted to punch him even more than usual. His smug look always riled Steve up. The guards stepped forward and pulled Bucky out of the cement room and back to the hall room with the chair. Bucky was strapped down and the machine was started without a word or moment of relief. 

Thirty seconds later the machine was stopped and Zola spoke. “What’s your name?”

There was a stretch of silence and Steve figured, in mute horror, that Bucky didn’t know the name. He leaned forward and ghosted his lips over Bucky’s ear, whispering his name.

“James Buchanan Barnes,” Bucky replied. His voice was weak but at least he could still speak. “Bucky.” 

“Again.”

When the machine was finished for the second time and Bucky was asked the question again Steve stayed silent and Bucky didn’t answer. Zola looked pleased that it had worked and Steve hated himself even more. But, he couldn’t let Bucky go through it again. Couldn’t let the machine turn back on and hurt him even more today. He could help Bucky later but today he needed to rest. 

**April, 1950**

This time, Bucky wasn’t brought to the machine when he was woken up. He was taken to a room with a small desk and three chairs. He was told to sit and he did, Steve watched as Bucky looked around the room, there was nothing else aside from a camera above the door. He frowned at it, as did Steve, they didn’t like the idea of people watching them. 

Zola and another man in a lab coat came in only a few minutes after Bucky, they sat opposite him and placed a box the size of a book on the table. 

“You’re going to be a great asset to us,” Zola said. “One day. You’re not there yet.”

“We have a few things to do today that will improve you,” the other man said. 

“It won’t take long, others want you as well.”

The man stood up and opened the box. Inside was a small chip and a small machine that looked like a gun. The man placed the chip in the gun and walked around to stand beside Bucky, who had stood up as well and backed away. “What is that?” He asked. 

“It’ll help you be better,” Zola explained. “We need you to speak Russian and it’ll take you to long to teach you it normally.”

“You’re not injecting me with that.”

“We are,” the other man said, grabbing Bucky and injecting him as quickly as he could. Bucky’s hands flew to his neck and he started scratching at the injection site. “Ostanovis', soldat. Eto ne pomozhet.,” the man said. Bucky froze at the words, his eyes wide. Steve felt the same way. He could understand them perfectly as well. _ Stop, soldier. It won't help it. _

**May,** **1950**

Bucky was in the chair again. Steve stayed silent as it happened, letting Bucky forget who he was and god he wanted to punch himself for it. But he had realized that telling Bucky the answers only resulted in more pain. So he stayed silent and offered as much support as he could without causing him any confusion that could make way for more pain. 

After the chair, he was taken into another room with a mat and a man with boxing gloves around his neck and pads on his hands. The soldiers dumped him at the base of the mat and went to stand beside the doo r. “Vernites', soldat. U nas yest' mnogo del segodnya,”  _ up, soldier. We have much to do today.  _

At first, they were just punching, Bucky being worked more than Steve had ever seen done before. Orders just kept on coming and Bucky just kept on going. Bucky punched the man’s pad again and a crack echoed around the room, and then the man’s grunt of pain. He left Bucky alone in the room, cradling his broken hand in his other hand. A few moments later another man walked in. 

“Naskol'ko khoroshi vy v bitve?” The man asked,  _ how good are you at fighting? _

Bucky didn’t reply, he didn’t know how to and he didn’t want to. So he stayed silent and watched the man shrug. 

“My sobirayemsya lopnut'. Posmotrim, naskol'ko khorosh etot aktiv.”  _ We're going to spar. Let's see how good the asset is. _

When they first started sparring Steve was worried. Bucky had never been amazing at hand to hand. He wasn’t bad by any means but he was a shooter, an excellent shooter. Plus, all the men he was about to fight were bigger than he was and probably had more experience. Steve looked at Bucky in concern, he didn’t want Bucky getting hurt, but when he looked he saw the glint of his metal arm and realized he did have an advantage. A good one at that. 

For hours and hours, the man sparred with Bucky, teaching him how to hit and fight and be a perfect soldier. When the first man left, another came in and started teaching Bucky how to use a knife. Then another came in and it was back to sparring. Steve wasn’t good with time but it must have been over a day by the time they let Bucky sit down. Over twenty-four hours of fighting and they only let him have an hour before another man came in. And then another and then another. 

**June, 1951**

When Bucky was woken up this time he was taken straight to the machine and wiped. After this wipe, he was taken into another room. Again, there were no windows. Steve couldn’t remember the last time he had seen sunlight or nature, and he doubted Bucky could either. This room had a mat in the middle and a bunch of men in tactical suits to one  side. 

“Poprobuy i pobey yego. Yesli da, vy prodvigayetes' v svoikh programmakh,” Zola said before turning to Bucky. “They’re going to fight you. You are going to pin them down, understand?” Bucky nodded once and sized up the men with a calculating glare that made them all shrink back. Steve frowned at Zola, he had told the men that they would be advanced in their career if they won but he hadn’t told Bucky anything other than the objective. It didn’t sit right with Steve.   
  


The first man stepped up onto the mat, Bucky (and Steve) doing the same. Within a minute Bucky had the Hydra agent pinned to the ground beneath him. Steve had watched it happen in approval. Bucky was good, really good. The next agent came up and Bucky pinned him down as well. 

Steve watched with a frown as he continued fighting them one by one. The way Bucky was fighting wasn’t like him per say, it was more mechanical. He wouldn’t flinch if a hit was landed and he never showed pain. He would just get back up and keep going, never stopping until the men were pinned underneath and Zola clapped once, letting him know that it was okay to let him up. 

“Molodets, soldat,” Zola said when Bucky was standing beside him. Bucky didn’t acknowledge the praise but his eyes weren’t as empty. Steve gritted his teeth. “Vernite yego krio,” he continued. Two soldiers grabbed onto Bucky’s shoulders and pulled him back to the cryo room. 

At least this part was peaceful for Bucky, Steve thought as they turned the temperature down and let him fall asleep in the tube. Steve was standing in front of the glass plate, watching as Bucky lay frozen. He had been here for five years and no one had come to help, Steve didn’t think anyone would come to help him now. They were well and truly alone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :))))))))))
> 
> Poor Bucky!
> 
> {Also, I've played fast and loose with the canon on how Bucky was treated with Hydra}


	3. Missions ~ 1

**June, 1952**

The missions started in 1952. Steve knew it was 1952 because there was a newspaper on the desk when Bucky was pulled out of cryo and onto the chair. He was wiped quickly, he didn’t fight back and Steve didn’t try to stop it - that only made them use the chair twice. The chair was turned off and Bucky was pulled, on non-functioning legs, into a debriefing room where a file was dropped in front of him. 

It was Zola again, he was much older now, walked with a limp and was never alone with Bucky in the room. Steve smirked, they were afraid of him. He sat down opposite Bucky and started speaking, his voice was harsher now, as if he was sick, “Vasha novaya missiya. Etot chelovek dolzhen byt' ubit. Net svideteley i nikakikh sledov nazad k vam ili komu-libo yeshche. U vas yest' nedelya. Ne podvedi nas.”  _ Your new mission. This man needs to be killed. No witness and no trace back to you or anyone else. You have a week. Do not fail us. _

Bucky nodded and took the file, Steve read over his shoulder. The man had been a former Hydra agent but had run away from the cause two months ago with some top secret information that they didn’t want to be leaked. The man was last seen in London, two days ago and was expected to go to a meeting in central London in three days. 

“Vy ukhodite cherez pyat' minut,”  _ you’re leaving in five minutes. _ Zola said standing up, the door was opened but the guard stayed where he was. Another man came in and Bucky was pulled towards a plane. 

No one talked to him on the plane. They acted as if he wasn’t even there. Steve hovered beside him watching everyone else, making sure Bucky was as safe as possible. It proved to be easy seeing as everyone ignored him. 

At one point Steve went over to the people in the cockpit to listen in, there were two of them. A man and a woman, both wearing headsets and tactical gear and guns strapped to their thighs. Steve frowned, where they going to give Bucky weapons? Could he get Bucky to escape and help him regain his life? 

“Skol'ko?”  _ How long? _ The man asked. 

“ Bol'she chasa. Togda eto trekhchasovaya poyezdka.”  _An hour at most. Then it's a three-hour_ _drive._ She replied. “My dolzhny podgotovit' yego v techeniye sleduyushchikh poluchasa.”  _ We must prepare him within the next half an hour. _

“ Kak?”  _ How _ ? 

“Napomnite yemu o tseli i protyanite yemu pistolet.”  _ Remind him of the target and hand him his gun.  _

Steve, having heard enough, drifted back to Bucky. He hadn’t moved, he hardly blinked now, it made Steve uneasy. He stood over Bucky and watched, he didn’t notice him anymore, he hadn’t since he was locked away. Perhaps he thought he was just crazy, or maybe he had just forgotten. Steve guessed it was the latter. Bucky didn’t remember anything anymore. Not after Zola had fried his brain. 

A different man came over. In one hand he held a file and in the other, he had a gun. It didn’t look like any gun Steve had seen before. The file was handed to Bucky, who took it and opened it without a noise. It was a picture of the target. He looked at it for a moment before it was taken off him again and the gun was handed to him. 

For a moment, Steve considered whispering to Bucky - whispering for him to get out of this, but they were still in the air and Bucky didn’t know how to fly a plane. And the only time Steve had flown a plane was when he crashed into the Arctic. Not his finest moment. So, he didn’t and promised himself that he would as soon as the opportunity aroused. 

“ Prizemleniye.”  _ Landing _ . The woman called. The man left Bucky alone again, alone with the gun. A horrifying thought crossed Steve’s mind. One that he was ashamed off almost instantly - but for a moment he had agreed with it. Bucky had the gun. He could end it now, he could join Steve in whatever this was and be free of the pain Hydra was causing him and stop what was coming. The thought was fleeting but it was in Steve’s mind. But, it left and Steve frowned. Helping Bucky escape would be so much better. Letting him have a life would be better than taking it away. 

The plane was landed and they all filed into a black truck. Steve didn’t know how long three hours was anymore, but it didn’t seem long. They were there quickly, Bucky lying on a roof with his gun pointed at a door and the five guards stationed around him. 

“Bucky,” Steve whispered. Talking felt weird now. He hadn’t done it in so long that it was unnatural. “Bucky.”

There was no response and Steve felt his heart drop. 

“Soldaty, obnovit'.”  _ Soldier, update _ . The woman said quietly but her tone still harsh. 

“Net dvizheniya.”  _ No movement.  _ Steve felt sick. He could talk so either he was ignoring Steve or he couldn’t hear him at all and Steve didn’t know which was worse. Bucky hadn’t moved in the two hours since they told him to lie down on the roof. Deciding to test his luck, Stee reached out and pushed Bucky’s shoulder. He fell sideways for a moment before righting himself and looking back through the viewfinder of the rifle. One of the guards kicked him in the shin, hard, Bucky grunted lowly which resulted in another kick. 

No more touching then.

It was another hour before Bucky readjusted his grip and tracked the path of the man, Steve had been trying to get him to listen to him but he didn’t respond to anything. He didn’t know if Bucky could hear him but he was praying to anything that could hear him that he could hear Steve but was choosing to ignore him. Steve tried again, he didn’t want his friend to kill some on for Hydra, he didn’t want Bucky to have it on his conscious. 

He went to say something, anything, to get him to stop this missi- BANG.

Red was all Steve could see when he followed the line of the gun. Red blood spilling over ice-covered steps. People started screaming as Bucky packed up his gun with robotic like movements. Steve went back over to Bucky, the guards were all busy, so he stopped the gun's movements - a confused look overtook Bucky’s face as he struggled to continue what he was doing. “Stop,” Steve said as softly as he could. “You don’t need to do this.”

“It’s my mission,” Bucky replied oh-so-quietly. The words broke Steve’s heart but at least Bucky could hear him. 

“It doesn’t need to be.” 

Bucky struggled to continue packing the gun. “It’s my mission,” his looked at the ground below. The blood had stopped spreading but people were still crying. It had been a perfect headshot. Bucky looked pale at the sight in front of him and he stopped trying to put the gun away.

“Come on, Buck, we can get you out of here.”

“It’s-” he stopped speaking and looked at the gun in his hands. He was getting paler every second and Steve hated to think of what was happening in his mind. There was a noise behind them and he turned to look at his guards. All five of them had their guns pointed at Bucky and Steve cursed. He was about to tell Bucky to jump of the building, he could survive it and he could outrun them, when they all fired. Five bullets hit him, making him sway on his feet. Tranqs, Steve guessed. Tranquilizers designed for a super soldier. They wouldn’t want him dead but they would want him neutralized. Steve wanted to scream when Bucky fell down. 

As soon as they got back to the base Bucky was put back in the chair. Steve lost count of how many seconds it was this time. 

Steve didn’t try to stop missions anymore. 

**October, 1963**

There were Halloween decorations all over the suburban street. Ghosts in trees and zombies rising from perfectly maintained front lawns. Steve was following Bucky as he walked down the street under the cover of darkness. It was their first mission in America, their first solo mission and their fifth mission overall. Steve had hoped that being in America would trigger something in Bucky but there were two problems with that. A) They were in Iowa and Bucky had never been to Iowa. B) A small device was sitting neatly on his neck, ready to inject him with almost lethal amount of tranquilizers if he messed up. 

Bucky wouldn’t mess up. 

He never did. 

The house they went up to was just as decorated as the others, a zombie in the garden and a broomstick by the umbrellas. Bucky didn’t understand why there were toys everywhere but it didn’t matter. What mattered was if the house was easy to get into - it was. And was the man easy to dispatch - he was. Bucky had the knife washed, his hands squeaky clean and his fingerprints gone before the hour hand on the clock had changed or the wife had woken up. He was to walk to the end of the road, take a left and get in the grey service van waiting for him. 

What the man had done or why Hydra wanted him dead didn’t matter anymore either. At first, they had told Bucky, and Steve because he was always there, why they wanted the target dead. But now they handed him a picture, where they would be and any other mission-critical information. Steve hated it but Bucky didn’t seem to mind - or know that it had changed. What Bucky didn’t need to know he didn’t know. 

A gray van was parked just where they were told it would be and the door opened when Bucky arrived. He got in and sat on the empty seat, Steve hovered around him. 

“Otchet o missii,”  _ mission report. _ An agent said. The agents Bucky worked with became unimportant. They were different every time. Every time they were woken a different man would drag him to the chair and even more would go with them on the missions. Steve wanted to know how many people worked for Hydra. 

“ Uspeshno. Tselevaya zadacha ustranena. Net svideteley.”  _ Successful. Target eliminated. No witnesses.  _

The men looked happy and the van started, driving back to the airport. 

**July, 1968**

Bucky was being punished and it was all Steve’s fault. 

He wanted to die all over again. 

The mission had struck a cord in Steve. They - Bucky - would not help in any way with trying to take down SHIELD. As soon as he had found out that Peggy of all people had been the one to start it. He had been messing up as much as he could, but he never made it Bucky’s fault. The doors wouldn’t open on the jet so they were late, Olga’s gun backfired so they had to spend more time fighting before they even got to the headquarters. 

But then Steve had done something stupid. They had been in the building and there was the wall of valour right there and their names were on it. They weren’t agents which meant Peggy had made them honorary agents so she could honour them. He had spun Bucky around showing him the wall and he had  _ remembered _ . He had actually remembered. Muttering Steve’s name and then his own and then Peggy’s, the veil over his eyes lifting. 

Steve hadn’t been as happy as he felt than in nearly twenty years. 

He had muttered their names and stopped firing, staring at his own name on the wall. He hadn’t heard his name in years, he didn’t know he had one. So Steve let him stare as everyone shot around him. A bullet pierced his shoulder, in and out; no real damage and Bucky didn’t even realize it had happened. But then it all turned to shit because of cause it did and he fell over, tranqued beyond belief. 

While Steve watched helplessly, Bucky was dragged back to Siberia. His shoulder was fixed and he was taken to the room with the chair. He wasn’t put in the chair though, he was dropped to the floor. Zola, on a screen this time, told them to beat him. It was absolute torture to watch and Steve couldn’t do anything to help. He could only distract one man at a time and there were twenty men in the room, all clamouring to get their hit on the Winter Soldier.  

Steve could only hope that the chair would wipe away the memory of the beating but by the flinch Bucky gave at the sight of the men it looked like even that luxury had been taken. 

**November, 1972**

They were on their way back to Siberia, back to the base where Bucky would be wiped and placed back in cryo until Hydra needed him again. The jet was silent, it was nearly three in the morning so everyone but Bucky was sleeping. It had been ten years since they had taught him how to fly a plane and Steve liked it better than him just sitting there without moving. 

This mission had been hard on Steve. He didn’t know how Bucky felt. He never did anymore. 

They had been in America again, there were plans that they needed and only a handful of people knew the location of the plans. Hydra had managed to take one of the men who knew the information but he wouldn’t talk so Bucky had been brought in. 

He wasn’t usually brought in to help like this, he was given a mission and did everything with it. But he was awake and in South America so they asked for help. Twenty minutes, a pile of tools, and some broken bones later Bucky had the location in his hands and was on a plane back to South America to continue his mission. 

For the first time, well ever, Steve wished he was the one getting his mind wiped. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Halfway done and still plenty of pain left!


	4. Missons ~ 2

**March, 1973**

It was Bucky’s birthday. He was 56 today. He looked almost the exact same. His hair was longer and his stare harder but he was still Bucky. 

He was sitting on (tied to) the chair, he had been for nearly five hours, and Steve couldn’t understand the hold-up. They never waited like this, when Bucky was put in the chair it was turned on. But now they were just sitting there waiting. Plus, they were alone, which never happened. Steve had floated through the door to see what was happening an hour in but hadn’t found anything. 

Deciding to give Bucky a birthday treat Steve leaned down closer and started speaking. He knew this was going to be wiped away as soon as people came in the door but didn’t Bucky deserve some sort of happiness in his life? Steve thought he did and Steve didn’t care what anyone else thought right now. The pain would be the same whether he remembered things or not.

“We meet when we were five, it was the first week of school and I came in late in the week because I had been sick. Some kid started hassling me right away, ‘suppose it was because I was an easy target. But you came in and pulled him off me, helping me up you said ‘why didn’t you run?’ and I told you that I had to fight my own battles, you laughed and told me that I was too small. The next day you sat next to me in class and we became best friends.”

Bucky was smiling now, it was a tiny smile but it was there. 

“The first time we kissed was at your house. I was black and blue ‘cause of a fight, my lip was busted and you were checking it out. You were so close to me that I told you to ‘just kiss it better’ and you laughed. I was joking around but I wanted to kiss you so bad and you know what you said to me? You told me that you didn’t kiss idiots who get beat up in back alleys. I told you I wasn’t an idiot, you sighed, shaking your head, and then you kissed me. It was the best day of my life.”

Both of them were smiling now. 

“I love you so much Bucky, and I’ll always be here for you.”

For some reason, this wipe was even harder for Steve to watch. 

**August, 1973**

Zola was dead, at least Steve thought he was. It had been a long time since they saw him, the last time was in America over four years ago and he had looked terrible then. Old and sickly. So Steve had assumed he was dead. He hoped he was dead.

Bucky was woken up before the sun had risen as was taken straight to America. They didn’t even wipe him. Even Bucky looked confused at what was happening that morning. Usually, he would fly the plane but today he was told to sit in the back, he stayed silent though. Never one to question what was happening, not anymore anyway. 

The plane landed outside New Jersey, Steve recognized his surroundings as they drove. It was the base where he had trained in the army, where he had been chosen for the program. Oh, how he wished he could go back and stop himself from saying yes. Him and Bucky could be living together, maybe they would be dead, but they would have been happy. 

That didn’t matter right now. Right now he had to help Bucky along.

“Nikto ne prikhodit i ne vykhodit iz etoy dveri. Vystrel lyubogo, kto pytayetsya.”  _ No one comes in or out of this door. Shot anyone who tries _ . One of the agents said to him when they arrived at a building. It was new, Steve didn’t recognise it. 

It took nearly six hours for the first person to try and come out. They were Hydra. All the people who tried to come out where Hydra. Steve wasn’t going to lie, watching Bucky shot Hydra agents was almost pleasing. 

**February, 1975**

Bucky had been sent to  Lebanon. He was supposed to kill a few people, he had been given a file, to cause trouble. Hydra wanted a war there and Bucky was to start it. That didn’t matter to Bucky, what mattered to him was finishing his mission. And his first mission was to kill a man who was going to bomb a building because another building was supposed to be bombed. It was too confusing for Bucky to think about now. Things didn’t make much sense anymore. Missions made sense so he was focusing on that.

The man walked out of the building and Bucky took his shot. Perfect as always. The man - they weren’t told his name - fell over with blood splattered around him. A woman screamed, someone always screamed, and Bucky started packing up. He was alone on the roof and there was no tranquilizer injector on him this time. Steve whispered to him that they should run. 

And they did. 

For twelve minutes and twenty-six seconds. 

Then he had panicked, falling down a hill because he didn’t watch where he was stepping, and couldn’t breathe normally. Steve tried his best to calm him down but it seemed that Bucky was ignoring him again because he wouldn’t respond to anything Steve said. Once he had calmed down enough to breathe right he surveyed the damage. His knife had pierced his thigh and his gun across his back had snapped in half. His metal arm was full of mud and wasn’t moving like it normally did and his flesh arm was covered in blood from a cut across the shoulder. He was okay all in all. 

He had climbed back up the hill, people ignoring him and painstakingly made his way back to the meetup site. Steve followed him silently. He wished Bucky could leave, wished he could make B ucky see what was happening and how to fix it. But Hydra had its hooks in Bucky, he couldn’t even make it a quarter of an hour. 

“Gde ty byl?”  _ Where were you? _ The agent asked, striking Bucky across the face. Steve wanted to scream - couldn’t they see he was already injured?

Steve knew Bucky wouldn’t lie, he didn’t know how to lie anymore. So he did it for him.

“There was a person on the roof when I turned around.”  
“Kogda ya obernulsya, na kryshe poyavilsya chelovek.

“I ran and he followed.”  
“YA pobezhal, i on posledoval.”

“We fought. He was trained.”  
“My borolis'. On byl obuchen.”

“I fell down a hill.”  
“YA upal s kholma.”

“I came as soon as I dispatched him.”  
“YA prishel, kak tol'ko otpravil yego.”

All he got was another slap across the face but to Steve, it felt like the beating of a lifetime.

**April, 1980**

Bucky was getting a new arm. He had never gotten a new arm before, the one given when he was first taken was the only one he ever had. But they had updated the technology while he had been asleep and wanted him to be better. This one looked exactly the same as the old one, Steve couldn’t tell what was new about it. The so he was strapped down to a table and was about to go under the knife. 

Steve wished he was going under. 

No. There wasn’t any anesthesia just like last time. Steve wanted to stop the procedure, even tried to break the electronics used but they were different now. He didn’t know what to break or how to break it. So he resigned himself to just holding Bucky’s flesh hand as he screamed his way through the surgery. Occasionally Bucky would squeeze Steve’s hand but he mainly stayed still, aside from the screaming. 

The only good part of that day was Steve pushed the doctor as he walked out, causing him to fall over and hit his head. Steve wasn’t a violent person but when it came to Hydra doctors who hurt Bucky - well, he didn’t think twice. 

**May, 1989**

This was the strangest mission ever. Steve decided that and told Bucky (he tried to stay silent during missions because it freaked Bucky out but this was too weird). Bucky had been briefed on the way to the jet, and again on the jet because he wasn’t sure he got all the details quite right. The agent had sighed but repeated himself. 

Why was he training  _ children _ ?

It was called the red room and they had ‘hired’ Bucky for the next month to help train some of the girls there. They were all training to be spies, the best of their kind and used ballet as an excuse to be together. 

Bucky was welcomed to the red room late at night, the darkness acting as a cover, and was sent straight to a small room with one single bed and a dresser. He stared at the dresser, he didn’t have clothes with him. But when he looked inside, there were already new outfits. That was a nice feeling, getting new things. 

The next morning he was called to help train. They started with the older girls, they already knew a lot but they couldn’t best him in combat so he helped them be (almost) as good as him. They used a range of tools, from guns to knives to hammers, and practiced killing people, or getting information out of the victim. Some girls were better than others but they all showed potential. 

It wasn’t a nice mission. 

He stayed with the older girls for a week before moving on to the younger ones. There was a little girl with bright red hair in there, she was amazing. She would be an amazing asset one day. When he would show them something, she would pick it up faster than the others. And when she caught him talking to Steve after three weeks of being there, she didn’t say anything to the handlers. She even taught him a few ballet moves, it didn’t bring a smile to Bucky’s face but it brought a lightness to his eyes and Steve thought that was enough. 

“Ty budesh' khoroshim shpionom.”  _ You're going to be a good spy _ . He said to her one evening. 

“YA ne khochu byt.”  _ I don’t want to be.  _

“Vy khotite byt' poleznymi. Ne tak li?”  _ You want to be useful, don’t you? _

She hadn’t responded to that and Bucky was called away. On the last day at the red room, he bent down and spoke lowly to her. “Ispol'zuyte svoi podarki. YA uveren, chto uvizhu tebya snova.”  _ Use your gifts. I'm sure I'll see you again.  _

Steve had frowned the whole way home. He liked it better when Bucky didn’t think he was good. He liked it when Bucky had no opinion on himself and Steve hated himself for that.

**Mid - December, 1991**

There was a silence as Bucky waited for Stark’s car to come down the road. He was sitting on his motorbike as quiet as the ground below him, a frown on his face. Steve was hoping that seeing someone he knew, someone he idolized as a kid, would trigger him back to normal Bucky. He was ready to do whatever he had to do to get him back but he wasn’t going to let him kill Howard Stark. 

After six hours of waiting (why did they always send him places so long before the target would arrive?) a car appeared behind them and Bucky started his bike. He drifted alongside Bucky as they pulled up beside the car, Bucky smashed the window and kept driving as the car crashed into the tree. Turning his bike around he went back to the car and got off his bike, leaving the headlight on to light up the scene. 

“You know him,” Steve whispered as he walked over. “Come on, you know him and you don’t want to kill him.” 

Steve was ignored and Bucky went to the trunk of the car. He opened it, and a case, which had five blue IV bags. Steve recognized them from the pictures Bucky had been shown. When he was happy with that he went around the car to the driver side, Howard Stark was crawling away and begging for Bucky to spare his wife. 

He had aged, that was clear, and Steve couldn’t be surprised. It had been fifty years since they had seen each other. But still, the sharp reminder that the world was aging around them wasn’t a welcomed one. Inside the Hydra base, it was easy to forget that years were passing and when they went out Steve could purposely avoid seeing how technology was changing. How the world was changing. But, looking into the face of a man he knew, he couldn’t push those thoughts away. 

Bucky picked him up by his hair and raised his fist, stopping when Howard muttered through bloodied lips, “Sergeant Barnes?” 

“Bucky! That’s your name, Bucky Barnes, Sergeant Barnes. You fought with Howard in the war - he’s a friend!” Steve yelled. He needed Bucky to hear him. There was hesitation in his eyes and in his arm, a hesitation that Steve rejoiced in. He hadn’t seen that look in Bucky’s eyes for so long. This could be the start of getting his Bucky back and helping him break free from Hydra. Steve couldn’t remember feeling as happy as he did at this moment. And then Bucky lifted his fist again and brought it down, once, twice. Steve turned around and tried not to listen to Maria Stark crying for her husband. 

**Late - December, 1991**

Watching Bucky be used a punching bag for guards was hard. Watching Bucky be used as a punching bag for super soldiers, that was a whole lot worse. 

They were  _ training _ them. Which basically meant they were beating up Bucky to see how strong the new super soldiers were. Bucky, at least, was fighting back and trying his hardest to win the sparring matches but they were stronger than him, and their serum wasn’t right which made them erratic. Which worried Steve. They could become angry at Bucky and gang up on him. He could hardly keep his own against one, if all five went after him he wouldn’t survive. 

“YA somnevayus', chto oni,”  _ I doubt they'll last. _ Karpov, the new head of the base, said to another non-enhanced soldier. They were standing with clipboards beside a doctor. Steve, even though he hated him, had to agree. They weren’t stable. 

“Oni budut tol'ko na l'du i ushli. U nas yest' soldat, kotoryy slushayet, zachem ispol'zovat' etikh lyudey?”  _ They'll be but on ice and left there. We have a soldier who listens, why use these people? _ The other soldier said as Bucky was thrown against the wall. 

“Oni sil'nyye i khoroshiye boytsy.”  _ They are strong, and good fighters.  _ Karpov replied. Steve rolled his eyes, just because they were good fighters didn’t mean they were good.

Steve’s suspicions were confirmed when one of the men grabbed the doctors neck and slammed him into the ground. 

Karpov cursed and ordered Bucky to get him out. Which he did, helping Karpov into a cell and closing the door. Steve watched as Bucky took in the soldiers. There was a frown on his face and annoyance in his eyes. Steve wanted to be happy that Bucky had emotions (which sounded terrible in his head) but he couldn’t help and be worried. Bucky wasn’t supposed to have emotion and he didn’t want him to have to go through even more brainwashing and torture to get him back to a machine. 

**May, 2009**

Steve knew the redhead that Bucky was fighting. He was sure he knew her but didn’t know where from. She was relentless, not giving up protecting the nuclear scientist that Bucky had been sent after by his new handler, a man named Pierce who lived in America. Steve was hopeful it meant they would be moving back to America to be closer to him and the new base of Hydra. It wasn’t until she shouted in Russian that he recognized her, the little girl from the red room that Bucky trained. She was good, a lot better than when she was a child. 

Bucky had been right. She was a good spy. Steve closed his eyes when Bucky shot the man through her and he hoped she would make it out of it. 

**February, 2001**

They left on the seventeen and arrived on the nineteenth. Steve knew the date because they had a calendar in the jet they were using. 

Steve was right, they were moving to America now. Alexander Pierce, the World Security Council Secretary and one of the many heads of Hydra, was bringing Bucky to America. DC would be their new home, not that the location actually mattered to Bucky. He was sitting as still as a statue in the jet, his eyes would flicker every few minutes, going from person to person. Steve was right beside him, their hands were touching. He didn’t know if Bucky could feel it but he could. 

The jet landed and Bucky was pulled off the plane and into an underground room. It was a lot smaller than their home in Siberia. This was just one room that housed both the cryo tank and the chair, again there were no windows and only one door. He was placed in the chair instantly and was strapped down, his eyes blank as people came in and out of the room.

After a while, the man himself, Alexander Pierce, walked in. He was wearing a suit and walked with purpose, as if he was the king of the world. Steve hated him and everything he stood for instantly, so he did what he could and tripped him up a little as he walked in. 

He composed himself and stopped in front of Bucky. “I’m glad you’re in America. We have big plans for you,” he turned to a technician. “He’ll remember me after he’s been wiped?” 

She nodded, “you’ve been programmed for long term.”

“Great,” he turned back to Bucky. “We’ve got a lot to do. Wipe him.”

Steve really, really, didn’t like this man and he really, really, didn’t like watching Bucky clench on a mouth guard to control his screams of pain. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact - the last date is my birthday! 
> 
> One more chapter to go! 
> 
> Let me know what you think of this!


	5. Epilogue

**May, 2012**

The first observation Steve made was that there were a lot more screens now. He hadn’t been used in a while, at least three years, but now they were awake and in an office overlooking (a very modern) DC. Bucky had been told to wait there for Pierce who had a new mission for him. Steve looked over at Bucky, looking away from the city below. He was still shaking slightly, he always shook after coming out of cryo and it was made so much worse by the chair. His hands were in his laps, his fingers being folded in on themselves - something he only did when they were alone. Steve knew that he would go still when the door opened. 

  
As he guessed, the door opened and Bucky stilled. Pierce walked in followed by a man they had worked with before, Brock Rumlow. Both looked older now and angrier as if they just got bad news. The two men went to the desk, Pierce sat down and Rumlow stood to attention behind him. “We have an important mission for you,” Pierce said. “It’s going to be one of the hardest missions you’ve done but I need it done perfectly,” a thin folder was handed to Bucky. “No survivors.”  
  
Inside the folder were three pictures. All the pictures were official looking ones, like ones on security badges and had the word ‘Avengers’ printed on the bottom left corner. There was the redhead from the red room and Odessa, a man with short hair, and someone who looked a lot like Howard Stark.  
  
“They’re all some of the best fighters in the world,” Pierce explained. “There was an incident earlier this month and they formed the Avengers. We need these three gone and it’s up to you.”  
  
“Natasha Romanoff is one of the world's best spies, been training her whole life,” Rumlow explained. “Clint Barton, another SHIELD agent who’s amazing with a bow and arrow and Tony Stark, genius with a robot suit.”  
  
After he spoke one of the many screens turned on and footage from a city in ruins came on, it was hard to keep up with Steve got the jist. The screen turned off and Pierce turned to Bucky, “I want it done by the end of the month.”  
  
Bucky nodded silently, standing when the door opened and more men came in.  
  
“You have access to any weapon you need, there’s no one else who’s cable of doing this mission. You have control over this.”  
  
Steve rolled his eyes, control was not something Bucky had. Bucky didn’t move or look any different, it looked like he hadn’t even heard Pierce. As they were walking out, Pierce called out to him. “Fail this mission and we won’t be kind to you.”  
  
They were taken to a car and transported through the city to a small, private airport. All of the men around them looked uncomfortable with being near the Winter Soldier - the name had caught on in the late 90’s. It was no longer just the project’s name but Bucky’s name - and Steve had to laugh at them but he couldn’t blame them. Bucky could kill all of them as easily as breathing. They had a right to fear him.  
  
Once they were on the plane all the men stepped back, away from Bucky, leaving him alone in the back. This always happened on planes, had done since the beginning of their time at Hydra. Steve scoffed when one of the men sent one too many looks at his friend. Bucky flinched. Steve stared at him, had heard Steve? Sometimes he acted like he could and other times he acted like all the other people as if Steve wasn’t there. Mostly, he would only react if Steve touched him, and even then it was hardly visible.  
  
“It’s okay,” Steve said. Talking to Bucky wasn’t something he did often, the outcome was usually a freaked out Bucky and a handprint emerging on his face. So Steve stayed silent most of the time. But occasionally he would try and reassure his friend, time and give him a little bit of happiness in the otherwise miserable life.  
  
Bucky looked at his hands, but the lightness in his eyes made Steve sure he had heard.  
  
~~  
  
The Stark Tower was much taller than Steve had anticipated, and it was a lot more damaged than he assumed it would be. They were staying at a hotel with a direct view of the building and he and Bucky had been staring at the tower for three hours. He was gathering intel for his mission and Steve was people watching, trying to figure out who people lived in the twenty-first century. They spent a lot of it - what he had figured out to be - their phones. He could see the appeal of having all the technology at his fingertips, they had nothing like that before the war, especially for the public. The lights of the phones added to the overall brightness of the future. Steve laughed at himself, he sounded so old.  
  
After the three hours of watching out the window an agent came in and handed Bucky a file before leaving again. It was all the security risks going into the building. The list was long and made Steve worry for Bucky’s safety even more than normal. The Stark Tower was one of the most heavily guarded places in America, if not the world but it had been severely damaged in the attack only a few weeks prior. It’s why he was being sent in now, it would be easier.  
  
Steve scoffed at it being easier, even if Bucky got through all the security there were robots, a man in a robotic suit and two heavily trained and dangerous people to fight. He was completely torn, he didn’t want Bucky to win - he never did - because he knew that Hydra was the bad guy but seeing how they punished Bucky, sometimes he wanted Bucky to just catch a break. If that meant he completed his mission, it meant he completed his mission. Pierce had promised that if he failed they would punish him even harder than normal and Steve didn’t know if he or Bucky could handle that.  
  
Bucky read through the list and looked back at the building one last time. He stood from the window and went to the door, knocking loudly. An agent came in a few moments later and Bucky gave his orders. “Seychas my atakuyem. YA sobirayus' v odinochku, poka vy derzhite robota v strakhe i derzhite kamery ot menya.”  
  
“English please, genius, you’re in America.”  
  
“We're attacking now. I'm going in alone while you keep the robot at bay and keep the cameras off me.”  
  
“Sure,” he replied pointing to a black bag. “Your tools are there. When you’re ready to leave come downstairs.”  
  
Inside the bag were a handful of knives and three guns. They were different every time, always updating with the technology. But Bucky managed to figure them out easily every time and never missed a shot. When the knives and guns were strapped down he left the room and went down the stairs.  
  
“You can go in through the service door,” the same agent said. “And up to the twentieth floor in the elevator. All four targets are there right now.”  
  
“Don’t mess this up,” another man said. Bucky didn’t reply, he simply turned around and walked out of the building. All the guns and knives were hidden if you weren't looking closely, so he was able to walk across the street easily. Being ignored always made the missions easier. The service door was around the back, his fingerprint was already in the system.  
  
The elevator played a song that Steve recognized from his childhood. Why Tony Stark chose 20’s jazz was beyond him, but it still made him smile as they went up the floors, even Bucky looked more relaxed at the tune.  
  
When the elevator doors opened the three targets jumped up, the redhead - Natasha - had her gun out instantly and pointed straight at Bucky. She was too late, he delivered one shot to her shoulder before she could shot him.  
  
“This isn’t possible!” She said when she saw Bucky.  
  
“What do you mean?” One of the men - Clint - asked.  
  
“I fought him in Odessa, he shot me then.”  
  
“Okay? And what - ?” Tony Stark asked he was cut short when Bucky shot both of his hands in rapid succession in order to stop him from calling a suit.  
  
Natasha shook her head, “he trained me as a kid,” she tried to shoot using her other hand but Bucky easily dodged it, making his way in. Steve was surprised at how casual they were in a fight, talking to each other as easily as they would in a conversation. “He’s the exact same guy.”  
  
“That’s not possible,” Tony muttered. A suit was flying through the glass as he spoke, ready to fight Bucky. It fell to the ground as Tony did. Blood was pouring out of his throat as he lay on the floor. Steve winced at the sight. Bucky didn’t even spare the dying man a glance, turning and shooting the other man in the head just as easily.  
  
Steve hated this. Hated it more than anything. Watching the man he loved be stripped of everything he stood for and made into a killing machine. It made him sick to his stomach. It also made him sick that he couldn’t do anything to help. He was also shocked at how easy it had been for Bucky to take them down, he had been told they were the best the new world had to offer but this was all that it took? A few easy shots?  
  
Natasha was pointing her gun at Bucky with her uninjured arm, she fired off the last of her round before collapsing with a grunt. “What?” She asked when Bucky walked to stand over her, “don’t recognize me?”  
  
“I don’t know you,” Bucky replied. Steve was shocked, he never replied to his targets.  
  
“You shot me,” she snapped. He looked at her shoulder and nodded. “In Iran,” she continued.  
  
“I don’t know what Iran is,” Bucky said as he pulled the trigger.  
  
She went limp against the ground like the others and Bucky stepped back. Steve looked around the room, there was blood everywhere. Broken glass was scattered over the left-hand side of the room from where the robotic suit had flown in from, a table had been flipped up by Clint Barton in order to have some cover. Their drinks were mixing with the blood on the floor beside Tony Stark.  
  
Steve felt sick, not at the three bodies lying on the ground, but at the blood coming from Bucky’s stomach. He stumbled back, clutching at his stomach with his flesh hand and dropping his gun.  
  
He wasn’t going to make it, Steve could tell just by looking at the wound. He would bleed out by the time he got to the hotel if he could even make it that far. Gently pushing him, Steve got him to sit against one of the walls and slide to the ground. He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to help him. Even if he applied pressure Bucky would be dead in a few minutes. The pool of blood surrounding them was getting bigger every second. Steve looked into Bucky’s eyes, the fear was so hard for Steve to see.  
  
“It’s going to be okay,” Steve whispered. It was hardly audible over Bucky’s labored breaths.  
  
The elevator doors opened a crack, Steve saw Brock Rumlow in the middle, and making a split second decision, he closed the doors. There was banging coming from them but Steve had turned his attention back to Bucky who was getting paler every minute. He was going to die here. And Steve was okay with that. He had thought about suicide as an option for Bucky for a long time but he never thought about killing Bucky himself. This wasn’t killing Bucky, he reasoned with himself, it was just preventing Bucky from getting better.  
  
With his final breath, Bucky whispered out Steve’s name, a smile appearing on his face.  
  
~~  
  
It felt like he blinked. He had closed his eyes looking at Bucky’s bloodied corpse and opened them to find a bright light. All around him was bright white, there was nothing but white as far as the eye could see. Steve let out a laugh, he finally got his bright light.  
  
“Steve?”  
  
Bucky was behind him, looking around in confusion. “Hey, Buck,” Steve said with a smile.  
  
“What happened?”  
  
“You died,” Steve replied. Better to tell the truth. “And I guess this is heaven?”  
  
He shook his head with tears in his eyes, “I ain't going to heaven, Stevie,” his voice wavered at the nickname but he sounded so sure of himself. Two strides were all took to pull Bucky into his arms. They held each other for so long, standing in silence. That didn’t matter at that moment, what mattered was that they were together again. Steve couldn’t care less about where it was they were reunited. Once more the word soulmates came to mind, as they held each other as tightly as possible, Steve smiled into Bucky’s neck. Soulmates. A nice thought and a lovely reality.  
  
“If there’s one person in the world who deserves to go to heaven. It’s you,” Steve said it with as much as conviction as possible but Bucky didn’t reply. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered against Bucky.  
  
“What are you sorry for?”  
  
“I couldn’t help you. Couldn’t be there for you.”  
  
Bucky laughed lightly, shaking his head. “Trust me, Stevie, I knew more than I let on.”  
  
The kiss they shared after that was better than Steve could ever dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're done! Yay - or maybe we're sad (I know I am)
> 
> Let me know what you think :)


End file.
